


Glory in the Flower

by AwkwardFortuna



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Exiled Booker | Sebastien le Livre, F/F, Gen, Immortal Wives Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, LMAO, Light Angst, Mortal Andy | Andromache of Scythia, Other, Quynh finds out Andy is mortal, Reunions, Swearing, and what does she have left? Find out in the fic, throwing all her plans of revenge out the window
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardFortuna/pseuds/AwkwardFortuna
Summary: Quynh swims circles around the lake until her legs begin to cramp and until her lungs start to burn with that familiar ache of pain that comes from drowning.Quynh swims until she can hardly move and then, she swims some more.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Glory in the Flower

Despite the cold and harsh weather of Ireland, Quynh swims most mornings.

She wakes up early, before the sky bleeds into the morning light, stepping out of the quiet cottage that she and Booker have come to find refuge in.

Ignoring his slumped over and drunken form by the doorway, she steps barefoot into the cold mist of the early morning. Padding her way down to a lake hidden by trees and shrubbery. Rose bushes have gone dead from lack of care, their skeletal petals a dark and withered red. There’s something magical about it, Quynh likes to think. Liminal, maybe, like time itself refuses to move and stands still, holding its breath until the moment she jumps into the water with a sudden and loud splash that makes time starts back up again.

The birds begin to sing, the scuttling of squirrels beneath the underbrush and the somber cry of crickets, form a symphony.

Quynh swims circles around the lake until her legs begin to cramp and until her lungs start to burn with that familiar ache of pain that comes from drowning. Quynh swims until she can hardly move and then, she swims some more. 

*

Booker is gone from his spot when she returns.

Dripping water onto the hard stone floor, she steps into the hall bathroom and washes the muck of the lake clean from her body. The pressure of the showerhead is strong. The water comes out sharp, like daggers, but this too feels like a testament of strength and so she dares not shy away from the stream. Her skin turns red from the irritation. She closes her eyes and the sting reminds her of the ocean, the salt seeping into the wounds of her hands as she clawed and beat against the rotting iron of her cage.

Booker has been trying to fix the pipes for weeks now. Something about him needing a distraction to keep his mind off of the fact that he is here with Quynh against his will.

Beneath the sounds of the shower, the front door can be heard opening and slamming shut.

With a sigh, Quynh turns off the water and steps out, wrapping herself in a robe and stepping into her slippers. She grabs a knife off of the kitchen table before heading out after him.

This is not the first time that Booker has tried to run. 

Most likely, it won’t be the last.

*

“What’s the point of this?” Booker grumbles, standing stiff as a statue in the corner of one of the old Old Guard’s many, and perhaps long forgotten, abandoned safe-houses. 

Quynh does not answer him for a long time, focusing instead on rifling through crates and chests full of old clothes and artifacts. They are all priceless things and she tosses them with abandon, not caring for the cracks and the breaks that she may cause.

After all, she is only here for one thing.

*

Quynh finds it in the sixth crate, tucked beneath old pottery and canvas, shoved so far back that she almost missed it.

Quynh breaks it open with a grin, eyes gleaming at the sight of her sword. It is still sharp as a serpent’s fang despite all of the time that has passed. It fits in her hand like a glove, perfectly balanced.

“Seriously? That’s why we’ve come all this way?” Booker scoffs. “ _Merde_ , a fucking sword.”

*

“What do you want with me?” Booker grunts, flipping pancakes in a pan while Quynh sharpens and shines her blade at the kitchen table. “Why am I here, Quynh? What’s the purpose of all of this?” He says, motioning towards the room with a spatula.

Ever since she got her sword back, things have been surprisingly domestic between them and Booker has since stopped trying to run, even though the itch to flee still lives deep inside of him. It makes him feel tense almost, like any second now the other shoe is gonna drop and they’ll be back at each other’s throats again.

“I need you to help me find them, Booker,” She says simply, eyes never once leaving the sword in her hands.

“And if I refuse?”

“You don’t have the option to refuse.”

The pancake is blackened now, burnt to a crisp, he curses and flips it over into the kitchen trash before starting on another one and pouring the runny batter into the sizzling hot pan.

“What happens after, then?” He asks. “Once you’ve found them, what do you plan to do?” 

Quynh tightens her grip on the handle, her knuckles turn white from the force of it. “Does it matter? You’ve already sold them out once, don’t tell me you’ve decided to grow a conscience now, Booker?” 

Booker thinks for a moment, how quick he’d have to be in order to strike her down with the frying pan, but when he looks over at Quynh, her eyes are on him, watching from the reflection of her sword. 

She’d slit his throat before he even had the chance to fully turn around, there’s no doubt about it.

“No. I haven’t,” Booker says, turning back to the stove.

“Good,” Quynh smiles at him and it's something cold and deadly. She sheaths her sword and stands.

“Then you don’t need to worry about what I plan on doing once we’ve found them,” she winks at him before leaving him alone with his thoughts in the silence of the kitchen.

Booker turns the stove off with a sigh. 

The pancake has burned again.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this as a sort of distraction from my other Quynh/Andy fic that I still need to finish DDDD: 
> 
> I do plan on updating this but I can't be sure of when! (Most likely when I finish my other fic and have a break between classes) so until then, I hope ya'll readers could enjoy the first chapter!


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